an honest girls journey through pregnancy …..

Main menu

Tag Archives: fear

This week I’ve had to accept the fact that there is a chance that our little guy will need to go under general anaesthetic in the next 6 months.

Petrified doesn’t really seem like a strong enough word to explain how this makes me feel.

Archer’s tongue-tie was detected at birth but the seriousness of it wasn’t truly noted until he was about 6 days old. We were referred to a pediatric surgeon with the understanding that there would be a very simple procedure done in that one appointment to fix his tongue-tie and off we would go. Apparently not.

In filling out the pre appointment medical survey, I told the doctor of the history of Von Willebrands in my family (my niece has the condition). This in itself is not an overly serious diagnosis. If the disease is present, prior to any surgery, treatment is given to ensure the blood clots correctly to avoid excessive bleeding.

Prior to this appointment I hadn’t even considered that my son my have this disease. I certainly hadn’t considered the fact that the tongue-tie snip may be a procedure that could be dangerous if he did have Von Willebrands. I’m thankful for the cautious nature and thoroughness of our doctor in detecting this as a concern!

Long and short of it is, they can’t test Archer for the Von Willebrands until he is 6 months old. They wont cut his tongue-tie until they eliminate Von Willebrands. Once he is older than 12 weeks, they wont do the tongue-tie procedure unless he is under a general anesthetic. Catch fucking twenty two.

So, what we decided to do was to test N and I to see if we are carriers of the disease (highly unlikely N is, the gene is in my family – but better to be safe than sorry!). Essentially, if we aren’t carriers, Archer can’t have the disease and snip snip we go. About a litre of blood taken later and as expected, N’s results are negative. Mine are inconclusive. Fuck fuck fuck.

We now have a referral to a hematologist for me to see if we can eliminate me as the carrier. Its not looking good but I will be doing everything in my power to beat the clock in getting some sort of result.

So the countdown is on. 7 weeks to go and I need to – get an appointment with the hematologist, discount me as a carrier (fingers crossed), get an appointment back at the pediatric surgeon and get my little dudes tongue fixed.

Or its general anesthetic time in October.

It terrifies me to think that Archer would have to have any sort of procedure. But the thought of him having a general anesthetic in his tiny body makes me feel ill.

I know its not a definite yet and there is no point getting anxious over something that may not happen but I am allowing myself to mentally prepare for the just in case. In the meantime, a warning to the hematologist and pediatric surgeon – I will be stalking you for appointments daily until I can get this resolved – the clock is ticking!

Have any of you lovely readers had to face surgery for your little ones?

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last week about the day we found out we were pregnant. So much has happened since that day and it has been such a blur that it is only in recent days that my mind has had a chance to reflect.

Firstly, I think Hollywood owes me an apology.

Secondly, Son, if it’s the future and you are reading this……. Stop now.

The movies and all of the stories that I had heard, painted a picture in my mind that I had envisaged for most of my adult life. That romantic and blissfully happy moment when you see 2 little blue lines appear after weeing on a stick. According to that picture in my mind, it would be perfect. An embrace with your partner, tears of joy and utter elation that you had created life. A soft focused pretty little scenario full of rainbows and unicorns.

I didn’t see rainbows.

Our moment went more like this…..

Piss on a stick (as per numerous prior tests we had done due to my “lady problems”)

Walk away expecting, like always, for said piss to result in nothing but a bit of relief that we hadn’t miraculously gotten pregnant (and a touch of fear that maybe my lady bits were really badly broken).

Go to the kitchen, have a chat, almost forget about said piss.

Remember the piss. Go back into the bathroom. See two little blue lines.

Have all blood leave my body and literally loose the ability to speak, function or process thought.

Somehow I made it to the kitchen to find N. Apparently I looked like some sort of catatonic tongue amputee who couldn’t breath.

I must have developed the ability to use sign language as next thing you know we are both in the bathroom, staring at a test that we had expected to go oh so differently.

Here’s where it gets emotionally quite confusing for me. I had no idea what I felt. I knew I still couldn’t talk. Or breath. I also knew that I had never felt such terror and panic in my entire life.

As much as I had always known that one day, I wanted to be a mum, being faced with that little piss on a stick was unlike anything I have ever experienced in my life.

What do we do? We both asked each other when I finally found my tongue again. Neither of us had an answer. There were no tears. There was no romance. There was nothing but utter, primal terror. I think. I’m still not quite sure what to call that emotion.

I do know though, what it was not. It was not what I had envisaged it would be.

It makes me want a refund. I want to have that moment again. This time with tears of happiness and romance and utter elation. And a rainbow… a rainbow would be lovely.

But I cant. That was our moment. Thist is our story. Its not perfect or romantic., but its honest, and real.

I’m sure I’m not alone. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who didn’t experience that fairy tale feeling about 3 minutes after pissing on a stick.

Personally, I think we should be honest about it. As awful as it sounds. This is scary really shit. For me, that day about 4 months ago was just the start of it. I may have found my tongue and slowly learnt to breath again but that panic and sheer terror is still definitely there, every single day.

Maybe that’s what my journey to being a mum is going to be. Mostly terror and panic. With the odd moment of reflection thrown in….